


Exalted Army

by Kuraido



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Feels, Drama, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-18 02:29:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16108901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuraido/pseuds/Kuraido
Summary: A story of Awakening's second generation, detailing their attempt to travel to the past.





	1. Return

A solemn storm covered the training hall, a patch of rain finding its way through a hole in the beaten roof. The steady drizzle harmonized with Lucina's work at the grindstone, preparing the Falchion for her eventual nightwatch. Her father had always insisted the blade would never dull, but Lucina never had the chance to ask if this myth held any truth. And so, long ago losing the freedom of faith, she sharpened it daily.  
  
As Lucina finished her bladework, she noticed a quiet hum coming from her comrades. She turned to the source to see Inigo propped against the wall, with Cynthia's head resting in his lap. She watched his delicate fingers run through her hair as the young Pegasus Rider stared out the window, most likely concerned for the pegasi subject to the rain outside. To Inigo's side was Owain, crouched down over a journal. He intensely scribbled something down before pausing, shaking his head and crossing out whatever had been written. Brady and Severa were silently playing tic-tac-toe with a stick in the dirt. They didn't seem to keep track of who won. The faint sound of Laurent reading aloud, most likely to a frightened Noire, could be heard from the study upstairs. Gerome sat alone by the rations.  
  
Despite housing several young adults, the training hall was quite restful. This wasn't unusual - days of peace were hard to come by, and were mostly dedicated to meditation rather than conversation. Not for a lack of comradery - nay, Lucina felt closer to all of her companions than to anything else in this world. They'd all been good friends since childhood, despite their occasional squabbles and drama. With the passing of the Exalt, however, their group was forced to adapt and evolve into something stronger. This silence was one of kindred spirits - a group whose thoughts did not require sharing. A faint smile graced Lucina's lips at the sappy thought.  
  
A creak of the tall, decrepit doors at the front of the training hall arose the attention of all the residents. When Lucina could not immediately recognize the figure in the doorway as Kjelle, she felt her heart leap and quickly grabbed for her sword. Most of the group grabbed for their weapons as well, though Gerome remained still. A short, red-cloaked figure slowly stepped into the center of the hall. Lucina was puzzled, but remained tense.  
  
"Are you a child? Are you hurt? Where are your parents?"  
  
The figure slowly removed her hood to reveal Auburn brown braids and a thin freckled face. She shook the rain off her head and faced Lucina with a scowl. Lucina gasped and lowered her sword to her side. Her comrades reacted similarly in surprise, Owain letting out a triumphant cheer and running upstairs to fetch Laurent and Noire.  
  
"Surely, I've grown SOMEWHAT over the years, Lucina. I'd hope I at least resemble a teenager by now. Oh, and Kjelle let me in. She's fine."  
  
Lucina let out a deep sigh of relief, dropping her blade and smiling at the girl before her, before walking over and giving her an embrace. The manakete blushed and squirmed her way out of her grasp.  
  
"Nah. It's fantastic to see you again."  
  
"Nyeh... and you as well, Princess. Now, I know I've got some explaining to do, but I-"  
  
"Let us all welcome our friend home, everyone!" Owain interrupted her announcement as he returned back downstairs. The entire army gathered around Nah, embracing her, patting her head, or shaking her hand.  
  
"I-I would say that is enough! Now, is anyone interested in why I've been gone for these years or shall I retire to bed early? Rain doesn't make for easy travel, you know."  
  
"Why of course, you shall share your tales over the finest of feasts!" Owain clapped and gestured toward the rations. "Severa, would you help prepare our dear guest a meal?"  
  
"Guest?! Let's get this straight, Nah, just because you played hooky for five years doesn't mean you'll be getting any special treatment from ME." Severa looked to the ground before murmuring, "...You're still one of us, whether you like it or not."  
  
"Do I detect an air of relief in that verbal abuse of yours?", Laurent said with a smile.  
  
As Severa began slinging insults at the poor boy, Lucina laughed and wiped a small tear from her eye. A sorely missed light atmosphere had returned to the barracks in response to the old friend's return. She enjoyed the peaceful quiet of her friends, but she'd missed this eccentricity that was once their normal. Helping prepare for supper, she felt a weight she'd been unaware she carried lifted away. For a little while, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. This is my first serious attempt at writing fan fiction, so any feedback and critique would be much appreciated. I plan to re-edit past chapters as I go, and I'm not sure how long it'll be between each new one.


	2. Tales

A bearskin blanket draped around her shoulders, Nah blew the steam from her tea out over the crackling fire. Once the rainstorm had passed, Kjelle had gathered some nearby wood and started a small fire so the fellowship could enjoy the night sky together in warmth. It had been several hours since Nah’s arrival - hours spent trading stories of travels, battles and hardships. Nah would never admit it, but she was ecstatic to finally be in company with her good friends again, and being the center of attention for a little while was something she'd never complain over. Her fun could have only lasted so long, however. Nah had returned with a specific purpose in mind. It was this critical matter that she now planned to discuss, around the very same firepit she and her companions had used as camping grounds in years past.  
  
"Is everyone awake? I'd like to begin."  
  
"Well, this girl here seems quite tuckered out. Give me a moment," Inigo said with a laugh, lightly nudging the ponytailed head on his shoulder awake. "Cynthia, dearest, wake up!"  
  
"W-wusah? Inigo, can we go up to-" Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, the tired girl gasped and jolted up. "Oh! Nah! Sorry, go on!"  
  
The group collectively chuckled, Nah observing the quick peck on the cheek Inigo gave Cynthia as she sunk her head in shame. 'So the once notorious playboy flirt is now a darling lovebird. Interesting...' she thought to herself. 'Anything can change in a few human years, I suppose.' Nah clapped twice for attention, then shed her blanket and stood up on the log she'd been using for support.  
  
"Alright. To begin with, a refresher. When I originally left, I told you all I planned to search for Tiki. You're familiar with her, correct?"  
  
"The Voice of the Divine Dragon... daughter of Naga," Laurent responded. "Not a soul has claimed to have seen her since Grima's return. It's been theorized she left this land entirely. I'd imagine you're about to debunk this notion."  
  
Nah smirked. "Your hypothesis is correct, Laurent. Yes, I spoke with her."  
  
Everyone - even Laurent - raised their eyebrows at the idea. The implications of this meeting were immense.  
  
"In fact, it didn't take all too long to find her. I spent quite some time in prayer to Naga at the Mila Tree, protecting it from Risen and the like. After a few weeks, she came to me herself. She seemed tired; I imagine her slumber has remained interrupted ever since Grima's been around. Anyways, she gave me this:" Triumphantly, Nah reached into a pouch by her waist and removed a great blue orb - Azure, one of the five Gemstones of the Fire Emblem. Once again, the entire group reacted in shock.  
  
"A Gemstone?!" Lucina exclaimed. "But... why? Is there some other way to perform the Awakening?"  
  
"Well, let me finish. I know we were dead set on the whole Exalted Falchion plan for a while. Obviously, that changed when Vert was destroyed by... y-you know." Nah faltered. ‘Her name,’ she thought. ‘Surely by now you could at least mention her name.’ She stared into the fire, her eyes following an ash as it slowly floated to the ground. She heard Noire let out a slow, shaky breath. Nah quickly attempted to change the subject.  
  
"So, the Awakening. I've always found it a bit confusing. I would think Naga’s powers would be capable of more than strengthening a sword, right? Here’s where me and Tiki’s theory comes in:” A cocky smirk scrawled itself across Nah’s face. “...time travel." Nah paused for effect, smugly crossing her arms, hoping for yet another shocked reaction. Instead, she was met with confused and critical frowns.  
  
"...TIME TRAVEL?!" Brady yelled, shaking his fist. "I thought we were talkin' about stopping Grima, not goin' away to fantasyland!"  
  
Nah put her hands to her hips and scowled. "If you would let me FINISH, maybe you'd change your mind. Unless anyone else spoke with Naga's own kin and has any ideas of their own? ANYONE?" Brady lowered his arm with a disheartened mumble and continued to listen.  
  
"Lucina. The Awakening is, indeed, impossible. A proper one, that is. What Tiki suggested was a work around. With four Gemstones, we should still be able to transfer some of Naga's energy to the Falchion. If we use that to open a gate to the past - this is straight from TIKI, not me - we'll be able to show up in a time period where the five Gemstones are all intact."  
  
Nah allowed her comrades some time to process this new information. She knew firsthand it was an incredibly doubtful concept to grasp. Assuming time travel could ever work in the first place, there were tons of uncontrollable variables - there was no guarantee they'd all end up in the same time, the same place, or even in one piece. Had the idea been shared, say, a year into Grima's return, it would have most likely been rejected outright. But any chance at hope - no matter how ridiculous - had become more and more of a scarcity as the years went on. A silent agreement was reached between the companions. If this was their chance at ending this gods-forsaken battle, they'd take it. Everyone's eyes returned to Nah, waiting for her to continue.  
  
"...So now for the details. I've got the other three Gemstones with me here. I'll spare you the stories for now, but they certainly weren't as easy as waiting on Tiki to get. Now, for the Fire Emblem itself... Has the location... changed?" There was a desperate hope lingering in Nah's question.  
  
"No. It's still in Ylisstol." Gerome, who’d spoken quite rarely throughout the night, responded firmly. “She still has it. Morgan.”

  
A cold gust of wind seemed to disapprove of Gerome’s utterance of that name. Morgan. It had become somewhat of a taboo to even speak of her. Noire's uneven breathing rapidly returned. She seemed to open her mouth to speak, but the most she could muster was a quiet whimper. Her blank gaze shifted downward, avoiding the eye contact of anyone around her.  
  
Laurent quickly stood up. "...I'm going to check on some things in mother's old tomes. Just to get a better bearing on the details. I'll take Noire up with me and put her to bed. ...I believe she mentioned she'd been feeling ill lately." Noire stared up at Laurent, her breathing beginning to calm. A small smile of relief and a gaze of deep admiration graced her face. Taking Laurent’s outstretched hand, the two left the campsite together. Once she was sure Noire was out of earshot, Nah spoke.  
  
"...I assumed that was the case. Obviously, we'll need the Fire Emblem if we want to proceed. ...Well, that's all I've got. I've told you all I know, but I'm not about to tell you what to do with it. It's your call from here, Lucina."  
  
Lucina didn't hesitate to reply. "I'll decide a course of action by morning. The rest of you, get some sleep. Prepare for travel by noon, should we move forward with this immediately. Thank you, Nah. Your contribution to this effort has been immeasurable, and we are all overjoyed to have you back. I hope to one day hear a full recount of your travels." Lucina smiled.  
  
"Genuine, intelligent and confident... too good a leader for this pack of idiots. Thanks, Luci." Nah beamed proudly in return. Owain began to applaud, which spread a chorus of cheers among his peers. Gerome alone remained silent.  
  
"Oh... Hey, Nah." Brady rose his hand in the air.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Almost forgot the jerk left with ya. When’s Yarne comin’ around? We can’t leave him in the present, right?"  
  
A deep pit formed in Nah’s chest. She’d been selfishly avoiding this very topic since she’d arrived. She’d have been content never mentioning it at all. Content avoiding those words until her grave. “...Yarne is… He’s...” She trailed off. The exuberant atmosphere from seconds ago had been snapped like a twig.  
  
The campfire released its dying crackles, before the wind extinguished its flame. Everyone retired to bed without another word spoken.


	3. Dreams

"Big sister! Big sister!"  
  
Noire hazily made out the familiar small girl running up the hill, waving excitedly, and immediately wished to cry. But she could not. Nor could she wave back. She could never speak or move in this dream. A dream she'd had for countless nights in a row, ever the same; not once could she do any more than observe. And feel. Noire's perspective widened to include a dark, cloaked figure sitting next to her. It called something out to the oncoming child, but its voice was completely unintelligible. 'Like a hurricane's winds, muffled under a pillow,' was how she'd described the noise it made to Laurent in the past. 'White noise piled upon white noise.' The face of the cloaked figure was entirely shrouded in a black nothingness. The figure turned to Noire. Its nothingness stared directly into her eyes and it attempted to speak once again. 'Like death slinking its way through my ears.' But Noire could not scream.  
  
"Father, sister, look! I've made us all crowns. Flower crowns!" The small child placed an ornament on Noire's head. It pierced deeply into her cranium. Thorns. Still, Noire could not scream. After the young girl placed a crown of black petals on the cloaked figure, it spoke again. One word was discernible this time: Morgan. The word rung like a bell in Noire's head. 'Morgan.' The girl sat down next to Noire and began to play with her short-cut hair, vainly attempting to braid it. With every movement, she could feel the crown of thorns poking and prodding at her skull. Still, Noire could not scream. Pointing down the hill, the cloaked figure spoke yet again. One more word was audible this time: 'mother.' This word joined the first in a chorus inside Noire's mind. 'Mother. Morgan. Mother. Morgan.' Still, Noire could not scream.  
  
An absolutely ghastly woman was crawling up, coming straight toward the group. Her eyes were bloodshot, her black hair unwashed and her dark clothes torn. In her hand, she desperately grasped at a worn book. The girl at Noire's side smiled and waved at the approaching figure. A red cloud began to form above the hill. The woman began to crawl faster. Pitch black lightning began to strike around the trio sitting at the top. Noire felt the cloaked figure grasp both her and the girl by the hands. A warm, comforting, yet impenetrable grasp. Suddenly standing up, the figure stared into the sky, waiting. The little girl looked up at him in curiosity.  
  
"Father? Is there something-"  
  
Dark light struck the figure, and Noire felt a burning shock. Right as the sensation began to spread throughout her body, she felt a clasp at her ankle. It was the woman, having made her way to the top of the hill. She grasped for the other girl's leg, but the cloaked figure quickly yanked her out of reach. The figure began to ascend into the storm itself. With him, Noire's sister. Noire's sister. 'Morgan.' The haunting woman's unblinking gaze disallowed Noire from arising with them, freezing her in place, forced to watch the two become surrounded in an unholy shadow. Then, they both disappeared. The woman at Noire's feet trembled. In sorrow? In anger? In shock? Still, Noire could not scream.  
  
The storm then suddenly passed, as always. A moment of complete silence followed, as always. The woman stood up, then opened her book. Immediate darkness. For the remainder of this dream, Noire never saw more than pitch blackness and the occasional flash of the woman's exhausted gaze. What she felt, though, was pain. Headaches that came, went, and returned in seconds time. Water rising throughout her lungs only to burn and evaporate back into air. Her veins filled with acid and popped. Chains dug into her heart, weighing it down to the pits of her chest. She felt everything, but she could only think of nothing. Still, Noire could not scream. Still, Noire could not cry. Still, Noire could not-  
  
"Noire! NOIRE!"  
  
Noire awoke, screeching. Laurent gently covered her mouth with his hand, an attempt to muffle her outburst so as not to wake the friends peacefully asleep below.  
  
\---  
  
Remain calm and composed, Laurent thought to himself. He took a deep breath before facing the girl sitting on the bed before him, staring blankly at the corner of the room. She wore nothing but a white nightgown, and the emerald green talisman she refused to ever remove around her neck. A pale ray of moonlight shining through the window accentuated her pretty features. Her chest slowly rose and fell along with the steady rhythm of her deep breaths. 'Perhaps I should postpone this until after our expedition...' Laurent considered. 'I would much rather she be fully rested than furtherly distraught.' Laurent frowned at the prospect of Noire's condition worsening. He wasn't sure her heart could take any more stress than it currently contained. And he wished to be the last person to ever deliver any words that could harm her soul. 'Well, what other choice do you have? Make Lucina speak on your behalf? Wait post-time travel for the correct moment?' Laurent sighed. In truth, had no choice.  
  
"Noire, are you feeling alright? Well enough to speak?"  
  
Immediately, Noire jolted out of her stupor. A half-smile replaced her removed gaze. "I'm alright, Laurent. You simply gave me quite the start when waking me."  
  
"Ah... my apologies, miss."  
  
Noire put her hand to her lips and giggled. "Always the gentleman, you. It really is no worry - I apologize myself for responding so loudly."  
  
"Do not apologize. I believe I've made it clear is I who is sorry, and so you should refrain from encroaching upon my apologetic role," Laurent jested with a sly smile.  
  
Noire laughed. A rare, beautiful sight. Laurent wasn't sure anyone else in the army had seen it, at least not for the last several years.  
  
"You're right, I'll relent~. Well, why did you awaken me? Am I needed on watch?"  
  
"Ah... no... you see, I wanted to discuss with you an urgent matter. I need your word you've recovered from... ah..."  
  
"It's just a dream. I've had it hundreds of times. I'm really used to it by now, you know."  
  
A blatant lie. Don't take me for a fool, my naive little angel. Laurent kept the continued flirtations to himself. Now was not the time for such pleasantries. "Come to my desk, there's something I must show you."  
  
Sitting down at his chair, Laurent felt the warm cushion of Noire's body press against his own, crouching by his side. He wanted nothing more than to tightly squeeze her close and doze off to sleep in an ignorant bliss. Calm and composed, Laurent, he reminded himself as he turned on the lantern sitting atop a pile of books. Laurent wrapped an arm around his dearest Noire and opened a large, worn tome to a page he had dogeared. This book had been his mother's; it was some of the only research of hers he'd been able to procure since her death. He pointed to a diagram near the bottom of the page. It had always particularly stuck out to Laurent, not only because the notes written on it were in Plegian, but were rather clearly not in his mother's own handwriting.  
  
"I'm assuming you recognize this."  
  
Noire grabbed for her talisman, rubbing its smooth edges along her palm.  
  
"I've made the connection before, mind you - but I'd thought nothing of it. Any translation of the Plegian written I could come up with has been gibberish. At least..." 'No room for hesitation now. If you truly love her, save from this endless turmoil.' "...at least until I came across this." Laurent flipped to another set of bookmarked pages. As he did, a tiny scroll of paper rolled out from inside, into Laurent's lap. Noire grabbed for it before Laurent could react.  
  
"Noire, wait, I should-"  
  
Laurent halted. It was better she read it herself, anyways.  
  
Noire's furrowed brow soon returned to a blank stare as she realized what was written - a note from Tharja, her mother.

“Noire -

If you are reading this, I must have succeeded. All essence of your father is gone from you; you’ll never have to worry about falling under his control, as your sister did.

If you’re reading this, I can also assume I have died.

I’m sorry I could never explain this to your face. Please, forgive me.

Mother

  
"'Please... forgive me...'" Noire slowly read aloud. It was all so blunt. All delivered so curtly - as if the woman who’d written the note could feel nothing.  
  
"Now, I don't have the full context," Laurent said, resting a hand on Noire's back, "but I would assume this was given to my mother with the intention of her relaying it to you herself. We can assume she'd never had the chance."  
  
"...Why would you show me this?" Noire uttered. Laurent could swore he discerned an air of contempt in her diction.  
  
"It... it's only right, to honor the wishes of my mother... and yours."  
  
"I don't WANT to honor my mother's wish, Laurent. This is useless to me."  
  
"Noire, calm yourself. I know well your troubled past, but my mother was no fool. And if she trusted Tharja, then maybe-"  
  
"Maybe WHAT? Maybe she was justified in cursing her only remaining child to hell and back? Experimenting on me, torturing me, all the while never speaking a word? And now the second you find a little note," Noire aggressively waved the scroll in Laurent's face, "you immediately assume there was a reason to it all?"  
  
"If my mother-"  
  
"This has NOTHING to do with YOUR mother, LAURENT. ...She could have been just as terrible as Tharja, for all we know."  
  
Laurent took a deep breath. Normally patient with Noire's rapid mood swings, he could not pardon an insult directed toward his beloved mother.  
  
"Listen to me, Noire. I pride myself on objectivity; surely you know this by now. Thinking realistically, this explanation makes sense. A curse strong enough to withstand the influence of Grimleal blood - I'd think it would take more than one failed attempt to perfect the results. What other reason would Tharja have to hex you, regardless?"  
  
Laurent bit his lip in concern. This was certainly treading into unsafe territory, even for their relationship. If he didn't relent soon, she may-  
  
"Why would you turn on me now?" Tears welled in Noire's eyes as she brushed Laurent's hand off her side. "Why now, when we're so close to leaving this all behind? Must you pride yourself on proving my dreams, and my feelings wrong? Why is it so worth it... what makes hurting me so worth it to all of you?"  
  
Her final words drove a stake through Laurent's heart, and he began to panic. "I-I would never, Noire. ...I simply felt you needed to know the truth. For yourself, for your mother, and perhaps even for the betterment of Morg-"  
  
"Please leave, Laurent."  
  
A misstep. A terrible misstep.  
  
"I-I..."  
  
"Please go."  
  
With his hand atremble, Laurent attempted once more to hold Noire close - to,at the very least, allow some physical comfort. Surely he could succeed in at least that. Noire slapped his hand away, this time with much greater force. Her lip quivered as she mouthed once more, "Please."  
  
Laurent slunk his way out of the study, retreating to the barracks below. As he descended, he heard a sharp tear of parchment, and Noire's muffled screams and cries into the bedsheets they had slept innumerable nights together in. As Noire wept for help, Laurent felt he should rush back upstairs and tell her it was all a lie: the Risen, her family's leave, their fight, and his idiotic, fruitless studies. He wished to hold her close and lie to her forever, until he himself believed such falsehoods as truth; together, they could die in ignorance. But you're much too prideful for that, are you not? Laurent continued down the stairwell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to be a bit more experimental with this one... hope it goes over well. If you've truly read this far, thanks for the support.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. This is my first serious attempt at writing fan fiction, so any feedback and critique would be much appreciated. I plan to re-edit past chapters as I go, and I'm not sure how long it'll be between each new one.


End file.
